


illuminate me, illuminate everything

by mercuries



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Dialogue Heavy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, M/M, but for like a tiny bit, i honestly write too much dialogue, it's a lot of arguing tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5609122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuries/pseuds/mercuries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'll be back for lunch."</p><p>"You're gonna miss me that much?"</p><p>Philippe scoffs. "In your dreams."</p>
            </blockquote>





	illuminate me, illuminate everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zombiemichonne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiemichonne/gifts).



> aah! happy birthday cap! ik this is a little late, sorry, but i hope u enjoy it!!! xxxx

"Good morning!"

Two literal suns pad into the bakery on Tuesday morning. Emre is jolted awake when the bell at the front door tinkles and shakes his head to rid his eyes of sleep. He really shouldn't be sleeping on the job, but he was absolutely sure there was still another ten minutes until the place opened, so technically, sleeping then wouldn't be reason enough to get an earful from Dejan later.

But now, customers. One is tall, blond and had abnormally long limbs with a permanent grin plastered to his face. The other is shorter with a haircut resembling an Ice Gem which Emre mentally scoffs at.

"Hi." It was the most unenthusiastic greeting to counter the excessively sunny one. Good enough. "What can I get you?"

"Oh, no. Nothing, thanks. We're just here to say hi. We opened up next door a couple days ago." Blondie says, eyeing up the pastries in the display cabinet under Emre's slouchy posture.

Dejan would like that. Neighbours.

"That's cool. What do you- " Emre leans over the counter to read the tiny label on both of their matching uniforms; black polos on grey chinos. He can only just about make out the pink flower. "Huh, a florist. So you guys speak flower language then?"

"I guess you could say that." Ice Gem pipes up.

"So what is this? And why is my boss so insistent on having it?"

Blondie walks over to the pot Emre is waving a finger at and examines it, sighing gently.

"This isn't a flower."

"Yeah, but it's a plant. You're still supposed to know." Emre shoots back, glaring at Ice Gem. "Do you know what that is?"

"Yeah, it's a Jade plant. It's said to bring good luck."

Surprised, Emre physically steps back and scrunches his nose. He didn't actually expect Ice Gem to know. Even Blondie looks shocked, throwing the smaller man a bewildered look.

"What?"

"This-" Emre lifts a leaf of the plant. "Is supposed to be lucky?" There was no way in hell Emre was going to believe a stupid stick dressed in green was going to decide whether today would be the day he got a pay rise.

"Why don't you ask your boss?"

Emre doesn't hesitate in calling.

"Dejan! Come meet the neighbours!" He yells into the kitchen. Blondie's face screws up. There is a clattering of pans before Dejan stumbles out, slapping Emre on the shoulder before smiling a little too sweetly at the pair of them. Ice Gem clearly holds back a snort as Dejan wipes his hands on a tea towel and offers it to both of them.

"Apologies about Emre here. He doesn't have the best social skills. I'm Dejan, though thanks to him, you probably already know that."

Blondie and Ice Gem shake his hand, Emre yawns and just about grasps their names; Lucas and Philippe. He practically falls asleep during their small talk, and after a few minutes they leave without a second glance, their departure inviting the morning flood of customers.

*

"You could be nice to them, you know."

Dejan is wiping down the counter while Emre flicks through his phone. He'd had a rather rough day, dealing with a couple's cake order that had the wrong flavoured icing, (fussy, Emre had said to them, risking a fist fight with said fussy husband) and a few coffee spills (which he denied any association with).

"But why? They deal with flowers. That's boring."

"So why am I so nice to you? You serve cakes, that's boring." Dejan mimics Emre, screwing up his face and throwing the cloth at him.

"They're your cakes. You're pathetic, Dejan."

"Drinks are on you tonight, then."

"Hey, no fair."

  
*

The next morning, Philippe walks in. Dejan's voice is on repeat in his head.

_"Wouldn't hurt you to be nice."_

Wait, that isn't what he said.

"Hi." Emre presses rewind and then play. "What can I get you?"

"You haven't given me a chance to look at anything yet."

Emre gets up from his usual slouching position, groaning as his shoulder clicks. He counts a precise five seconds on his fingers before repeating his question.

"What can I get you?"

Philippe lifts his chin and looks him square in the face. Philippe is short. Very short.

"What do you recommend?"

"Do you think I'm some kind of expert or something? I just serve these things. And take your money."

"That's a nice way to put it."

"Dejan says I do have a way with words."

He looks down at the cakes through the glass beneath him. Sure, he'd never actually _tasted_ any of them during his few months of working there, but he knew which ones Dejan took pride in. He lifts a plate from the shelf behind him and slides a slice of cheesecake onto the porcelain. He reaches for a fork and hands them both to Philippe.

"Dejan's favourite. Maple and pecan cheesecake."

Philippe blinks.

"It's eight in the morning."

"So?"

"I can't have cheesecake this early."

"I thought you wanted a recommendation?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Oh sit down, for heaven's sake."

Emre leads him to a table, bringing his cheesecake along with him. He sits down at the one closest to the door, placing the cake in front of Philippe, letting the fork fall to the table with a clatter. He sits down opposite.

"Listen, there's no rule against eating cake in the morning. I don't know what you came in here for if it wasn't cake. Now you have your cake. Eat it."

Hesitant, Philippe picks up the fork, and scoops up a forkful.

"Maple and pecan, huh?"

"Just eat the bloody thing."

Shrugging, Philippe eats it. Emre watches his reaction through slits, and Philippe looks right back at him as though they were having a staring contest. He chews, swallows and exhales.

"Tell Dejan that's some really good cheesecake."

"He knows it's good cheesecake."

The first customer walks in; the bell at the front door tinkles. Philippe gets up, his chair grating against the floor. He gives Emre a wry smile.

"I'd better go. Thanks for the cake."

"You have to finish it first!"

"Don't you have a job to be doing?" His eyes wander off to the customer at the counter.

"It can wait."

"I see why Dejan doesn't like you."

Philippe pouts. He sticks his bottom lip out and scrunches his eyebrows together and fucking pouts.

"Oh, Dejan loves me."

"Yeah? You want me to ask him?"

The tiny man standing practically beneath him (He couldn't be taller than four foot, surely?) jabs a finger into Emre's chest. He'd slowly made his way closer to the German, standing eye to neck. Height was a huge disadvantage, it was unfair having to tilt his head 180 degrees to be able to look Emre square in the eye.

"You have customers."

"And you haven't paid."

"I'll be back for lunch."

"You're gonna miss me that much?"

Philippe scoffs. "In your dreams."

  
*

Two weeks later and Lucas is in the bakery with a large bouquet in his hands. There's orange and beige and lilac and Emre wonders if flowers even came in those colours. Surely they could've just spray painted them.

Grinning, the blond pushes the door open and Emre grumbles to himself. Not now, he thinks. My shift is nearly over. And I just mopped that floor. 

"We're closed," Emre hisses.

"Ah, I'm sorry. Dejan just asked me to bring these over."

Emre calls into the kitchen and Dejan scurries out. His face eases into a smile when he sees the flowers.

"Wow, that's pretty amazing. How much again?" He digs around in his pocket for his wallet.

"Thank you. And uh, thirty quid?"

"She'll love them. Thank you so much." Dejan hands over the notes. Lucas clicks his tongue.

"It's no problem. Have a good night, and good luck!"

"Thanks. You too."

Lucas turns and leaves.

"So, are those for your girlfriend?"

"Yeah, they are. Why? Are you jealous?"

Emre's cough converts into a wheeze.

"Of flowers? No way."

*

Emre observes Philippe from the counter while he eats the croissants he ordered for his supposed breakfast. It's prior to official opening times but Philippe has made a quick habit of coming in exactly fifteen minutes before Emre turns the open sign around to get his usual breakfast order- two croissants and a coffee. Dejan ensured that Emre didn't refuse to take the order, so he was stuck making small talk with the florist. At first, he sat as far from Emre as possible, plugging his headphones in so Emre wouldn't dare talk to him. Maybe that was for the best, since all their current conversations resulted in another stare-off. Two weeks later and he's sitting at the counter, face to face with a slouching Emre.

"You know, Dejan's planning on adding some stuff to the menu."

"He should probably consider changing his staff first,"

"Excuse me?"

"Just saying."

"Yeah?" He reaches onto Philippe's plate and takes a bite out of his uneaten croissant. "Maybe he should. Then I wouldn't have to see your scrawny self everyday."

"Not all of us are giants, you know."

"Doesn't explain why you're so skinny." He prods into Philippe's shoulder, who is gently knocked back from the impact. Emre shrugs as though to prove his point.

"Listen, you overgrown baby," Philippe leans in to Emre's face. "My shop opens up in like five. I don't have time to waste with you. And I'm not paying for that croissant."

Emre can feel his breath on his skin. "I don't care. My shop also opens in like five. But am I complaining? No. So shut up and have your breakfast and leave."

"I didn't know you enjoyed my company so much." Philippe leans so far forward into his chair he's practically on top of the counter, feet balancing on the edge of the metal leg of the stool.

"Ahem."

Dejan appears from behind Emre holding a tart in his right hand, pie in his left, looking a little embarrassed.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"No way." As Emre moves away from the counter so Dejan can put the tart into the cabinet, Philippe sinks back into his seat, defeated.

"I'm still not paying for that croissant." Philippe whispers once Dejan leaves.

Emre ends up paying for it.

*

  
"Do you like Philippe?" Later on that day, when they close up early, Dejan is probing Emre with questions as he chomps on his own banofee pie. He is yet to go another two spoonfuls without complimenting himself.

"Like him? I fucking despise him."

"You sure? It didn't look as though you did this morning."

"Oh shut up. We were having an argument."

"Some argument that was."

Emre scowls at him. "I do not like Philippe."

"Stage one, denial."

"Shut up, Dejan."

  
*

He finds himself in the florist on his lunch break the following Wednesday.

"Hey, you work next door, remember?" Philippe looks smug when he walks in. Emre feels as though he'd just drowned in a bottle of old lady perfume. Flowers smelt weird.

"Don't get smart with me."

"Don't worry, I'd never want to do that."

Emre runs a hand through his hair. He had no idea what he was doing. Every petal was identical, there was always so much green and everything just smelt really bad. He suddenly misses the scent of the bakery.

"I need help."

"No surprise there."

"Seriously. My sister's getting married next week and I need to give her some flowers. Any...um, recommendations?"

Philippe rolls his eyes. "You want me to recommend you flowers? This isn't a cake shop, you know."

"Go figure. I just need to get her something, okay?"

"What's your budget like?"

"I don't know. Anything affordable I guess."

"You're not buying them now, are you?"

"How long are these flowers supposed to last?"

Philippe claps his hands over his face. "You literally have no common sense, do you?"

"I try to lower my levels of intelligence to those around me, so, I don't know, why don't you tell me?"

"I didn't think it were possible to get any lower than it already was," Philippe retorts, pulling two white roses from a wooden stand and a lily from beside it.

"Anyway, what did you actually come in here for?"

"Flowers, I said."

"Yeah, but you weren't going to need them today. You obviously wanted something else."

"Fine. Listen, I need a date."

Philippe sighs in fake annoyance.

"First a cake shop, now a market- honestly Emre, get a grip."

"No, I mean to this wedding. I need a date."

"Why are you talking to me then."

"Long story."

He glances at the clock, a huge sunflower with petals as numbers positioned above the door.

"I have time. Let's hear this."

"It isn't my sister's wedding. It's Dejan's engagement party. You know all the flowers he ordered from here a few weeks ago? Yeah, he proposed. And he kind of told my parents I had a boyfriend and preceeded to describe you. Now they want to meet you, at Dejan's party."

"You're joking, right? Please tell me you're joking."

Emre shakes his head. "It's just for a couple of hours. Have a few drinks. Heck, you can even bring Lucas if you'd like."

"What did he say to them exactly?"

"Just about everything except for the fact we hate each other's guts."

Philippe's expression is blank. "And you still want me to go ahead with this."

"Free cheesecake for the next month?"

"Uh, no bribes. Can't you just cancel?"

"My parents will be there. And Dejan. They're making me come."

Philippe sniffs, rubbing the side of his nose. "Fine. But the free cheesecake is still on, right?"

"Thought you said no bribes?"

"We need to convince your parents we're in _love_. Of course there's going to be some bribe involved."

"I'll have to ask Dejan. But thanks, anyway."

"You're welcome, I guess? I mean it's going to be a challenge, but nothing I can't handle, right?"

Emre smirks. "We'll see. Drop by later, we can discuss this with Dejan. In more detail." He departs from the shop without looking twice at Philippe.

*

"They're for you."

Emre arrives late the next morning and is greeted by a bouquet of red carnations on the counter. They're wrapped in purple cellophane with a pink ribbon tied loosely in the middle. Flowers. For him. There had to be some kind of mistake.

"Are you sure?"

"I don't know many Emres who work here." Dejan detaches the card from the plastic and lifts it to reveal Emre's name written in cursive.

"They're from Philippe, aren't they?"

"Yeah, he dropped them off at breakfast- he was a little earlier today."

"Fucking hell."

*

"Flowers. Why?"

Philippe strolls in on Friday at lunch, wearing one of the fakest smiles Emre had ever seen. He looked like a photocopy of Lucas, only with a little more pride in his step.

"Because I'm practicing. In case you forgot. I need to be able to tolerate you for at least three hours next week."

Emre hadn't forgotten. It was hard to forget the one thing you'd been thinking continously about.

"So you bring me flowers?"

"Yeah, remember? Flower language? Red carnations symbolise true love. That's probably the most basic. Come on."

"Listen, I barely know what a rose is." Emre plates a slice of cheesecake and hands it over to Philippe. "But I appreciate the gesture." He nods over to the bouquet, now sitting in a vase on the unused table in the corner.

"You're welcome, _boyfriend_ ," Philippe taunts.

Emre flushes red.

"Why're you doing that?"

"What."

"Blushing."

"I'm not blushing."

"Yeah, _babe_ , you are."

"Dejan!"

Philippe bursts into a fit of giggles. "I'm just messing. But that was good, be honest."

Dejan groans and swings his head around the door. "What do you want?"

Emre's stare doesn't leave Philippe's.

"Why did you set me up with him? He's terrible. I hate you, I hate him, I hate this shop. Seriously, Dejan-"

Philippe grabs hold of Emre's face between his tiny hands before he can finish his sentence and kisses him. Emre isn't ready, he's still murmuring into Philippe's mouth, which tastes an awful lot of coffee and mint and whatever flavoured cheesecake he'd served him. Emre tries to pull away but Philippe's hands are vices on his jaw, so he melts into the kiss himself, breaking away properly only when he hears Dejan snorting in the background somewhere.

He wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

"Why'd you do that?"

"Like I said before, practice." Philippe chuckles and returns to eating his cheesecake (which Emre remembers is lemon flavoured), his signature smug expression playing on his lips.

"Don't say you didn't like it." He says between mouthfuls.

"I didn't."

"You're a liar. Look me in the eyes and say it."

Emre looks away. "Fine. It was good."

"Called it!" Dejan and Philippe proclaim in unison.

**Author's Note:**

> i had no idea how to end that¿? might start working on a sequel since i like this au
> 
> &&&happy new year, hope u hav a good one!!


End file.
